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Back when I was young and hip and went to shows more often than work (because I was in college, get it?) I saw Caribou perform at the Wex. It was the spring of 2008, and he was touring for the album Andorra. I was absolutely obsessed with Melody Day. So trippy. So dreamy. Just like his performance!

Pitchfork reviewed Caribou’s new track “Can’t Do Without You” a few days ago, and were kind enough to stream it in the review. I think it’s simply fantastic. And, for the record, it perfectly suits a 10 p.m. workout after a long, stressful day.

Most who know me know that my career is—at this point in time, at least—my primary focus. It’s also my primary source of joy, which I think can be attributed to working with such talented, stimulating and straight-up on-the-ball people. I mention this because I’ve been thinking a lot lately about inspiration, and about how it can come from obvious places—coworkers, literature, art—and from people and things that are more enigmatic.

I was constantly inspired this weekend: from laughter with good friends who I haven’t seen in ages; from wandering around Downtown Columbus during the Arts Festival; from incredible drinks and conversation with a handful of people I had never met; and from even a quick tour of a pal’s new(ish) home, which she’s decorated, naturally, fantastically.

Tonight’s inspiration, I suppose, falls somewhere in between the obvious and the ambiguous. I was checking out recent posts on 99U, the educational arm of creativity-showcase site Behance, and I came across a post about poet-artist-professional-slash-haver Austin Kleon. I’ve come across posts about (and by) Kleon before, but had never paid much attention to his work. Tonight I did, though, and I’m just totally enamored with his Newspaper Blackout work.

Kleon created a collection of poems by redacting newspaper text with a permanent marker. It’s so ingenious, and I love how he’s created both totally witty and incredibly poignant works from articles about otherwise pedestrian, everyday stuff (i.e. “The News”).

Of course, he’s done a great deal more than just publish this book and the corresponding website. And I’m looking forward to following his work with more awareness now.

Hello (five or six) followers out there: major apologies for my extreme absence. A lot’s happened in the last year, and though it may not make sense to anyone but me, posting to HJR just couldn’t (or wouldn’t, I suppose) be a priority.

I visited Chicago this long weekend to spend time with a friend. This morning, before packing up and hitting the road, I wandered around Lake Shore Drive and up and down Division Street, snapping some shots in an attempt to regain what was, years ago, the potential for a mediocre-slash-decent photography hobby. The shot above is the one I’m most happy with from my morning excursion. The sky was just a bit too hazy today.

In any case, shortly after I took that photo I sat down at a bench—with a croissant and a cup of black coffee, because who needs a diet, amirite?—and an older gentleman and his little pup came over and plopped down beside me. We talked for nearly 40 minutes about his dog, his career (menswear designer, Chicago via Providence, Rhode Island), my career (within a dying industry … his words, not mine), regret, living life to its fullest, trying new things, traveling. Oh, and the best route back to Columbus. It was one of the more unusual and pleasant conversations I’ve had in some time, and when I eventually got up to leave I did so feeling a little lighter, a little happier and definitely inspired.

I mention this now, I guess, because it seemed like such a classic “everyone comes into your life for a reason” scenario. I almost went to Starbucks like a lazy slob, but instead walked the few additional blocks to check out the corner bakery. Then, I contemplated eating there, indoors, but decided to have a seat in the park instead. Maybe I’m looking for drama—for serendipity—where there isn’t any. But regardless, it was an encounter that, later in the day, felt totally necessary. I’m happy I bumped into that old man and his little dog Gracie. I’m happy he happened to be one of those “talk to anyone” open-book types that seemed genuinely interested in both sharing his story and hearing mine.

It’s been a wonderful yet difficult, almost surreal, year. And lately has been the most difficult. And while this blog isn’t intended to be personal—but instead an away-from-work creativity outlet—it seems important to share this, if for no other reason than simple context. My lesson these past couple weeks has been that each of us, especially those of us who feel a need to create and to share, should do our best not to lose that sense of self. It’s astonishingly easy to do, it seems. But hold on to your opinions and your ideas and your dreams for dear life. Because what else is there, really?

Ultimately, like the gentleman (whose name I didn’t even catch, incredibly) said to me this morning: There’s no point in regrets, and no point in thinking you’ll ever have it all figured out. So here’s to moving forward—for all of you reading, because god knows we’re all dealing with something. And here’s to some consistent HJR posting. Because while most of you probably don’t need it, I certainly do!

Thanks for your patience, pals. I’ll have so much more for you very soon.

Apologies for a 6-month absence just seem silly. And I don’t have much of an excuse, save for the fact that I’m once again writing for a living, and that’s been the priority. So no, I’m not here with an apology, just a promise to continue to post again soon. Look for an HJR relaunch of sorts in the coming weeks.

So, it goes without saying… there’s not a thing I don’t love about these turquoise & coral combo pieces. My wardrobe can use a little additional spice — and I think this trend is a more-than-adequate solution.